Exiles
by stardustandsarcasm
Summary: Loki of Asgard and Elsa of Arendelle, both born with power over ice. Both taught from a young age to suppress these powers. Had they been allowed to see one another, great tragedies could have been avoided in both their lives. After both are exiled, a chance encounter makes them rethink everything they felt sure they knew. I do not claim ownership over these characters or worlds.
1. Chapter 1

Odin, King of Asgard, was pacing before his golden throne, his footfalls echoing throughout the enormity of the throne room. He turned abruptly at the sound of the doors opening. His wife, Frigga, entered gracefully and gave a shallow curtsy before the Allfather.

"You sent for me, Your Grace."

"Frigga, something troubling is occurring on Midgard."

A look of puzzlement crossed Frigga's face. "But there has been peace on Midgard for centuries. We have protected the mortals in every way possible."

"You remember Princess Elsa?"

Frigga's face fell. Elsa, the daughter of the king and queen of Arendelle, born with the power to control ice. They had visited her on the day of her birth. Her powers had been evident even then. Odin had warned the king and queen to be wary of her gifts, that they would pose a great threat to their kingdom if left unchecked. The king had sworn that she would learn to control it, and the Asgardians had not questioned his judgement. They had been forced to visit Arendelle again, however, after Elsa's younger sister, Anna, had narrowly avoided death after an accident with Elsa's powers. Once again, Odin had had to remind the king of the dangers posed by his daughter's abilities. The Allfather had been almost beside himself with rage; he had sacrificed too much protecting the integrity of this realm against the frost giants to let one mortal endanger its people. He had threatened to intervene and "deal with the girl" himself - and most likely would have, too, such was his anger - but Frigga convinced him otherwise. She made him see the girl for what she truly was. Gentle, benevolent, and most importantly, frightened.

"It is her fear that worries me, Frigga," Odin had said. "It will consume her."

"She will learn to overcome it," his wife had replied gently. "What would you do, in the king's situation, if it were Thor or Loki in question?"

Odin ground his teeth together in frustration; he could see that his wife was right. "I would have faith in them, and trust that they were stronger than their abilities," he admitted.

Frigga smiled. "Precisely."

"You are too wise for your own good," Odin sighed.

"And not wise enough for yours," she replied lovingly.

So, the Asgardians had returned home again, though this time with the promise that if anything of this nature happened again, immediate action would have to be taken.

Determined to protect both their people and their daughters, the king and queen of Arendelle shut the palace gates and kept Elsa separated from her sister. Over the years Elsa's powers grew, and, terrified of bringing harm to those she loved, she became more and more withdrawn. Her father had always told her, "conceal it, don't feel it". And that was exactly what Elsa did.

She seemed to have bridled her abilities to some extent, until her parents were killed on a sea voyage the previous week. With no one to act as an intermediary between herself and the outside world, Elsa became completely cut off, her emotions raging within her like an icy storm, unable to see even her sister, the one person who could have brought her solace in such dark times.

"Frigga?" Odin said softly.

Frigga, who had been so deep in thought that realising she was still in the throne room was quite a shock, blinked and looked at her husband, her eyes giving away the dread she felt for Elsa. "Yes, of course I remember her. How could I forget?"

Odin climbed the dais steps and sunk into his throne with a heavy sigh. "How, indeed?" He paused before continuing. "Her parents are dead."

His wife gasped, understanding immediately the effect this will have had on the princess. "Killed at sea," Odin continued. "I have been keeping an eye on her, and I must say, until her parents' death I saw hope for her, despite the growing strength of her abilities. But she has strayed from that path. I have tried to remember what you said to me on the day of out last visit there, but I truly fear for the safety of the people who are to one day call her their queen."

Frigga was obviously affected by this news. She rushed up the steps and knelt at her husband's feet, her orange robes pooling around her like liquid fire. "You cannot harm her. She is innocent, Odin!"

"But for how much longer, Frigga? Are you willing to risk the fate of an entire kingdom for the sake of one mortal?"

"She is no ordinary mortal, and you know it. She was born with incredible powers that few could even dream of. She is to play a role in the future of our worlds, and I will not allow you to exile her further than she has already exiled herself just because you fear her potential for destruction!" Frigga was becoming increasingly agitated, and, though she did not insinuate anything of the reason, Odin thought he understood why.

He spoke quietly, for fear of being overheard. "You speak also of Loki, am I correct?"

Frigga dropped her head, not wishing her husband to see the tears welling up in her eyes. In a shaky voice, she replied, "I cannot bear the thought of you exiling Elsa because I see in her what I see in our son every day. Our son is alone in ways that go beyond our comprehension."

"What do you mean?"

"You and I, we have never doubted that we belong. Loki, though we have raised him among Asgardians, will never truly be one of us, and I fear that the longer he spends among us, the more he begins to suspect his true lineage." Frigga raised her eyes to her husband's face as a hot tear carved a path down her face. "If you are willing to take action with Elsa, why not our son, should the circumstances ever call for it?"

Odin's face was contorted, the inner conflict he was fighting mapped out in the lines that creased his old skin. "What would you have me do?"

Frigga wiped away her tears, suddenly hopeful. "Let me talk to her. I will go to Arendelle myself."

A silence ensued as Odin studied his wife's face. "Very well. Pay Elsa a visit. Help her to control her powers."

Frigga rose quickly. "Thank you, my king. I will leave immediately."

* * *

Frigga hurried along the hallways of the palace. She had returned to her chambers to change into robes for travel, and was making her way towards the rainbow bridge when she stopped suddenly. On her right was the door to Loki's chambers. She wondered if it would be a good thing for her son to meet her new charge. Perhaps he would remember Elsa and how she – if everything went according to plan – learnt to control her powers, something which would be a valuable lesson for him to recall if he ever did discover his own control over the winter elements. Perhaps he would even help Elsa. Loki had many powers of his own that he was in full control over. Frigga hoped that this would give Elsa the confidence she needed to come to terms with her own abilities.

She raised her hand to knock but hesitated, knowing that Odin would be furious if he ever found out. _I must do what is best for my son,_ Frigga thought to herself, and rapped her knuckles three times on the cool metal.

"Come in," Loki called from within.

Frigga pushed the door so that it swung open on its hinges. Her youngest son lay on his bed surrounded by the books he always kept so close. He looked up from the one he currently had open and met her gaze with a smile.

"Hello, Mother. What is it?"

"I want you to come on a short trip with me, Loki."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "A trip? A trip where?"

"You'll see when we get there," Frigga said evasively. "Will you come?"

"All right," Loki agreed hesitantly, although he found the whole situation baffling.

"Excellent, then put on your cape and shoes." He did as she asked.

Just as they were about to leave, Frigga turned to her son and said gravely, "Loki, it is very important that your father never finds out you came with me."

Loki looked startled. "Why? I do not wish to displease father."

"It will be alright," his mother said comfortingly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Just do not mention it to him under any circumstances."

And with that they set off for the Bifrost.

* * *

They hurried across the rainbow bridge, Frigga increasingly conscious of the foolishness of her actions. Nevertheless, she was determined to protect her son in any way possible and so pressed on.

Loki couldn't understand why his mother was taking him anywhere, let alone to another realm, which was the only explanation as to why they were going to the Bifrost. He had only left Asgard a couple of times in his life since he and his brother were still only children in Asgardian years.

Heimdall stood at the entrance to the Bifrost, feet planted in a wide stance, imposing as ever in his resplendent armour. His sword was held in front of him, point down against the ground. He looked entirely at ease, but his golden eyes betrayed the ferocity he hid beneath his cool facade. Heimdall was ruthless when it came to his duties as Gatekeeper to Asgard, and so even in the presence of the Queen and a prince, he did not move aside.

"Heimdall, may we pass?" Frigga asked, voice commanding but respectful.

"For what reason, Your Highness?" He replied, voice deep and gravelly, revealing no hint of emotion.

"We require passage to Midgard. May we pass?" she repeated.

"Follow me," Heimdall said, turning on his heel.

Entering the Bifrost was as breath taking an experience as ever. The golden sphere arced overhead, casting a strange light over everything within. Intricate patterns were carved into the walls with utmost precision. A circular dais rose from the centre of the floor. Heimdall ascended the steps, slow but purposeful, like a bear who knew he would not be challenged.

Frigga walked around the dais, Loki following behind her, and came to a halt on the far side. Heimdall asked if they were ready. The Queen nodded her affirmation and they both turned to face out of the gap in the Bifrost's walls.

Loki recognised the sound of metal on metal as Heimdall slid his sword part way into the chamber atop the dais. Lightning bolts crackled through the air, causing the hair on the back of Loki's neck to stand up. His fingertips tingled with anticipation.

"Call when you are ready to return," Heimdall said before forcing the blade deeper into the fissure and opening up the bridge, sending the two hurtling through space towards the realm of Midgard where Arendelle and Princess Elsa waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsa was huddled in the corner of her room, putting as much distance between herself and the door at which Anna had just come knocking as was possible. Her knees were brought up to her chest and her arms were wrapped tightly around them. Her hands, though gloved, were clenched tightly in an attempt to stop the frost which was spreading across the floor and up the walls, with her as the epicentre.

"Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel," she whispered to herself over and over again, rocking back and forth just to give her something to think about other than the mantra which had long since lost its meaning.

It had always had some effect on her when her father said it, but now he was gone. He had left her alone, him and her mother, and now she had no one who knew the truth about her monstrous powers. No one who could even begin to comprehend the isolation she felt in her every waking moment.

Suddenly, she felt someone's presence in the room. She raised her head from where it had been buried in her arms and gasped. Before her stood a tall, slender woman draped in elegant orange silks. Chestnut brown hair fell down her back in perfectly formed ringlets. Her face was kind, and her pale blue eyes conveyed a deep sadness and understanding that Elsa could not fathom.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Elsa asked, startled by the woman's sudden appearance.

"My name is Frigga-" she was cut off as she took a step towards Elsa.

"No! Stay back!" Elsa cried. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, my dear. My name is Frigga, wife of Odin, Allfather of the gods and ruler of Asgard, realm of the immortals."

Elsa's eyes widened, a look of disbelief and suspicion flashing behind the fear. "Why on Earth would I believe such a thing?"

Frigga held out her hand, palm up, and a series of images appeared, hovering like the lights that sometimes appeared over Arendelle in the night. It was on one of those nights that Anna had demanded they build a snowman, and Elsa had almost killed her with a stray blast of ice to the head. Elsa shuddered.

The images that Frigga summoned were a series of moments from Elsa's past, right from the day she was born to the present day. Elsa watched the projections in awe, her jaw hanging slightly open. Frigga closed her hand as the images ceased. "Do you believe me now?"

Elsa scrambled to her feet and curtsied low. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not know."

"It's quite all right, my dear."

"If I may, Your Majesty, why are you here?" Elsa enquired nervously.

Frigga considered the girl carefully, deciding how much she should tell her. She saw no reason to frighten the child further by informing her of her husband's intentions to banish her should her powers become too unruly. "We have been watching over you on Asgard since the day you were born."

"Me, Your Majesty? But, why?" Elsa said, taken aback.

"Isn't it obvious? Your abilities, my child. They are a gift, and one that must be protected. Elsa, you have in you the potential for great virtue. There is beauty in your powers, if you learn to control them. But, if you let your emotions get the better of you in this way, your powers pose a great threat to those around you." Frigga paused, letting her words sink in. Elsa was staring down at her hands. The Asgardian moved over to the bed and sat down, motioning for Elsa to join her.

"I fear I cannot control them," Elsa said quietly.

"Ah, but your fear is the problem, Elsa. It will consume you and be your downfall. You must learn to live in coexistence with your powers. This constant battle for dominance is not good for you. You must learn to become one with the storm inside of you."

"But how? If I let go I put everyone at risk."

"Your only other option is to carry on the way you are now. And clearly," Frigga said, motioning to the room around them, "that method is not proving very effective."

Elsa sighed. "I was improving. I was learning to control it before... Before-" she had to stop to choke back a sob rising in her throat. The frost in the room thickened slightly and Frigga leant across to take Elsa's hand between her own. She did not fear Elsa; she knew that even the girl's considerable powers would have no effect on the Queen of Asgard. Nevertheless, Elsa flinched away and would not let Frigga touch her. She did not trust herself.

Frigga sighed. "I understand that you are lonely, Elsa." She paused. After this there would be no changing her mind. "That's why I brought someone with me. I think you'll get along."

Elsa looked up, her curiosity piqued. "Who?" she was, of course, wary. She still didn't trust herself not to hurt anyone who came near, but at the same time, she was lonelier than she could say and the thought of any kind of interaction made her heart leap.

Frigga saw all of this in her face and smiled. "Loki. You can come in now."

* * *

Loki, who had been standing outside the door on his mother's orders (though admittedly eavesdropping) pushed open the door and entered. His eyes widened at the sight before him. The room was completely covered with ice, and a light snow was falling, despite the fact that it was spring time outside. His eyes fell upon his mother who was sitting on the edge of the bed, and then upon the girl – Elsa, he believed his mother had called her.

He had never been much of a romantic, preferring to stay in his chambers reading and practicing magic. He had always left the womanising to his brother. But even he could not fail to recognise Elsa's beauty. A pair of wide, ice blue eyes set into a heart-shaped face of flawlessly pale skin twinkled enchantingly. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a neat bun which exposed the full extent of her long, slender neck. The dress that she wore was not the most flattering, being mourning attire, but he could tell that her figure was equally exquisite. She looked around eighteen, just a few years younger than himself; he was a young Asgardian. Loki was quite taken aback and stood, slack-jawed, waiting for his mother to break the tension.

After an interminably long pause, she did. "Elsa, this is my son, Prince Loki of Asgard."

Elsa stood and curtsied as she had done for Frigga. Loki, still staring, took a moment to react, but bowed in return, something he rarely did so willingly, and something he had certainly never expected to do for a mortal of all things.

Frigga looked between them. "Loki, I presume you were listening in, and so no further introductions are necessary. I think I shall leave the two of you for a while. There is much for you to discuss." And with that she left, closing the door behind her.

The first few minutes were awkward. Neither of them knew why Frigga had left them alone, nor what she meant when she said they had much to discuss. As far as they knew, they had nothing in common with one another.

Loki cleared his throat nervously. "So... you did all of this?" He gestured to the walls and floor.

Elsa smiled shyly. "Yes. But I didn't mean to," she added hastily.

"Amazing," he breathed, coming further into the room and turning slowly, drinking in the beauty of what Elsa's powers had created.

Elsa gaped at him. "Amazing? No one's ever said that about me. I'm a monster, and this," – he paused, making the same action he had – "this is my curse."

Loki turned to face her. The sadness in her eyes astounded him. He had always been fascinated with conjuring and trickery, but Elsa's powers were unlike any magic he had encountered. It was beauty. Pure, crystalline beauty. That Elsa should fear it and be ashamed of it was incomprehensible to him.

"I find that difficult to believe. Why don't you tell me your story, and then perhaps I will tell you mine."

"There's really not that much to say. I've hardly left this room in a decade."

Loki was thoroughly intrigued by this girl. "I'd still like to hear," he pressed.

Elsa smiled slightly, and Loki was confused at the way his heart fluttered when her features lit up. "All right. Why don't you sit down?"

They sat on her bed and Loki listened intently as Elsa recounted her story from as far back as she could remember, omitting no details. She couldn't have said why, but on that day she bared her soul to this young man. Perhaps it was because she had been starved of human company for so many years, and this was an opportunity to vent feelings she had long kept hidden. But really, there was something in his emerald green eyes that she recognised. Elsa, with her unusually perceptive mind, saw in Loki the glance of solitude. Granted, it was a different kind of solitude to what she was used to, but it was solitude all the same.

She was comforted by the way he watched her, head tilted thoughtfully to the side as he soaked up her words. He was different to everyone else. He wasn't afraid of her; he was fascinated by her. He even asked for a demonstration of her abilities. Elsa took some coaxing. The last time she had used her powers on purpose she had almost killed her little sister.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, folding her delicate hands against her chest.

Loki smiled at her. "You won't," he said gently, reaching out to take her hands.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know things. Just like I know that you can control this. I'm exceedingly intelligent, you see," he replied with false haughtiness. When he saw that his attempt to lighten the mood had had little effect on her, he added, "And because I trust you."

Elsa was mesmerised. She stopped pulling away and just watched, completely still, as he took her wrists in his hands and removed her gloves. She flexed her fingers, watching how they moved. It had been a long time since she had seen her hands.

Loki smiled encouragingly. "Go on. Show me."

Elsa took a deep breath and held out her hand, palm up. A perfectly formed snowflake appeared and hovered for a moment before shooting up towards the ceiling. It exploded in an ice blue flurry and snow began to fall.

Loki laughed gleefully. "This is incredible," he said as snow began to settle in his jet black hair. Elsa smiled widely and began to move her hands in intricate patterns, sending ice crystals swirling through the air. She manipulated them into images: Arendelle castle; a ship on rough seas; her sister Anna running through the halls as a child; and finally, Loki himself. Slowly, she let the snow drop.

Loki turned to her. "All right. I'm not one to break a deal. My turn."

For the next hour Elsa listened as Loki told her of his life on Asgard. Just as she had been honest with him, he told her everything, even that which he would not dare tell his mother. He told Elsa how growing up he had always felt as though he didn't belong. It was clear to him that no matter what he did his father favoured Thor. He did not wish to be above his brother, only equal. Loki just wanted his father to see that, while he was different to Thor, not feeling anywhere near as at home on the battlefield, he had his own gifts that made him worthy of his birth rights.

Loki was surprised at how willing he was to open up to Elsa, and found himself enjoying the feeling of lightness it gave him. However soon he grew tired of talking about himself; he knew they didn't have forever and he hadn't learnt nearly enough about her.

So they discussed their powers. Elsa continued forming snow flurries and forming objects and even small structures out of ice. Loki, in turn, showed her many of the spells he had mastered. He made green flames dance across his fingertips and conjured apparitions. He showed her how he could create doubles of himself and pass through solid objects, all the while revelling in the delighted expression on her face.

It was strange, but he felt closer to Elsa after knowing her for only two hours than he had felt to his own brother in his entire life. It was as though they shared some deep, unspoken understanding of one another. Neither of them could explain it, but the beauty of it was that they didn't have to.

* * *

Eventually Frigga returned. The pair were so deep in conversation that they did not notice her arrival. She cleared her throat gently. The Asgardian looked between them and smiled. "Did I not tell you that you could control your powers?"

Elsa's brow furrowed. "Your Majesty?"

"My dear, look around you. When I arrived this room was frostier than a Jotunheim winter. Now look. The ice has receded." Frigga laughed at Elsa's startled expression. "And you didn't even notice."

"It would appear that I was right. Unsurprising, really," Loki interjected laughingly, grinning at Elsa. She returned the smile, her heart jumping at the mischievous flash of teeth.

She stood and curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am indebted to you."

"No. Thank you, Elsa," Frigga replied crossing the distance between them and lifting her chin so that she could look her in the eyes. "You have given me hope in more ways than you can possibly know." She placed a gentle kiss on Elsa's forehead before turning to leave again. "I will let you two say goodbye."

Loki and Elsa watched the door close behind her. As it clicked shut they looked at one another. Elsa was the first to speak this time. "Will you be back?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I hope so, though. I really do."

Elsa nodded, casting her eyes to the ground. She didn't want him to leave, which was odd. By now she was so used to pushing people away, but the thought of seeing the door close behind Loki of Asgard made her unbearably sad.

"Well, just in case, here's something to remember me by," she said. She waved her hands and a small object the size and shape of a pebble formed. She pressed it into his hands. Loki ran his fingers over it. It was cool and smooth, obviously made of ice. It was clear as glacial water, but through it ran spiralling threads of blue and white hues suspiciously similar to her hair and eye colour. It was delicate, and beautiful, and complex, just like Elsa. Loki clutched it tightly.

He waved his own hands and a small emerald flame appeared, the same colour exactly as his bright eyes. "For you. Just in case," he said, voice lowered. Then, when she hesitated, "Don't worry, it won't burn you."

She reached out and took it between her hands, eyes wide with fascination. It flickered softly, emitting a warmth that worked its way through her, all the way to her heart, which she had thought would remain like ice forever. "It's beautiful," she said, unable to convey how deeply his gift touched her. "Thank you, Loki."

He smiled down at her, still struggling to understand why her ice blue eyes made him feel so warm inside. He lifted his hand to her face and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She blushed warmly but made no attempt to move away. He brought his face closer to hers and whispered, "Until next time, my ice queen," before pressing his lips gently to hers.

Then he pulled away and slipped silently out of the door, leaving Elsa alone again, but less lonely than she had felt in years.

She touched her lips softly, and smiled, her eyes filled with hope. Hope that she would one day be able to master her gifts – for in their short time together Loki had taught her that her powers were indeed a gift – and become Arendelle's queen without fear of harming her people.

She stayed up for hours just staring at the flame and thinking of the man who had created it for her. Though the flame was a great comfort, it was unnecessary. Elsa knew that she would never forget Loki Odinson.


	3. Chapter 3

The Allfather was beside himself with fury. Heimdall, ever loyal, had informed him directly that his wife had taken Loki with her to Midgard. He had struggled to believe her capable of this, especially given the turn their last conversation had taken, but knew that Heimdall would not have deceived him. Odin stormed through the hallways of the palace towards the chambers he shared with his wife. He burst through the doors, crimson cape billowing out behind him like dragon's breath.

"Frigga!" he bellowed, seeing the room empty.

The queen entered the chamber from one of the numerous adjoining rooms, still dressed in her travelling garments. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her husband. It was immediately apparent that he was in a rage. His eyepatch seemed to glisten with golden ire. His knuckles were white from gripping his staff so tightly. Frigga was no fool; she knew there was only one possible explanation for her husband's temper, but she would not give in to him so easily.

"My lord?" she replied, voice calm.

"Do not play games with me, Frigga. I will not be mocked. Did you think it would escape my attention that our son accompanied you on your journey today?"

"I had hoped so, though perhaps I was naive to believe that Heimdall would hold his tongue," she said, more than a little insolently.

"Do not attempt to place blame on the gatekeeper," Odin spat. "You are the one in the wrong here, Frigga!"

"I fail to see how so, my lord. I took Loki to Midgard with me because I believed - and rightly so, I might add - that both he and Elsa would benefit from the company of the other. I can see no justifiable reason," she added, raising her voice so as not to be interrupted, "for you to be in such a temper about it."

"Don't be facetious. You knowingly went against my wishes by taking our son there."

"I did no such thing. You told me to help Elsa control her powers, and I did, with the added benefit of showing our son that such powers can in fact be controlled."

"Surely you cannot be so blind!" Odin said, appalled. "We have tried his entire life to keep Loki's true parentage hidden from him. You said yourself that he already feels an outcast. If he were ever to find out that he was born a frost giant, it would end him! And you thought it wise to thrust him into the path of a woman with the power to control ice?"

Frigga would not be deterred. "Loki is no closer to the truth now than he was before he met Elsa. In fact, the only thing that has changed is that they both feel a little less alone in the world! If you cannot see the good in that, Odin, then it is you who is blind, not I."

Odin shouted in exasperation, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground and sending sparks flying. Frigga remained unmoved. "Can you not see what you have done? Our last conversation consisted of you telling me that you fear the actions I might take if Loki ever becomes a danger to this realm," he paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued. "Do you wish for that day to come?"

"You know full well that I do not," Frigga said indignantly, offended at what her husband was suggesting.

"Very well. Then we are agreed on what must happen," he said cryptically as he turned to leave.

Frigga ran to place herself between Odin and the door. "What must happen?"

"All memories of their meeting must be erased. On both their parts."

Frigga's face fell. "Odin, no! You cannot!"

"I have no other option, Frigga. You have forced my hand in the matter." He pushed past her into the hallway, but only got a few strides before he was stopped by his wife pulling his arm. Her eyes were glistening.

"Odin, had you seen the effect they had on one another, you would not dare. Elsa blossomed. She made more progress with her abilities in those short hours with our son than she has in years. And Loki! I have never seen him look so at ease with another person before."

"That is precisely what worries me. Has it occurred to you that perhaps the reason he felt so 'at ease' was that his innate connection to ice was awakened through his interaction with the girl?" Odin was hissing the words now.

Frigga could not think how to reply to this. Of course it had occurred to her, but the happiness she had seen both in Elsa and her son had erased any fleeting doubts she might have had about the origins of this happiness. She watched, helpless, as Odin strode away down the corridor towards Loki's chambers.

* * *

Loki sat on his bed, books to one side, turning Elsa's ice token over and over again in his hands. A smile flitted across his face as he recalled the kiss that had taken place just after she gave it to him.

The smile faded as he recognised the raised voices of his parents outside his door.

"Odin, please, don't. Anything but this," his mother was pleading.

"My mind is made up, Frigga. Step aside." There was a coldness in his father's voice that filled Loki with dread, and he clutched the token tighter.

He stood as his father burst into the room, glowering as though about to take on an army, followed by his mother whose face was contorted with despair.

"Father, what-" Loki did not get to finish his sentence, as Odin crossed the distance between them and placed his hand on Loki's head. Loki's eyes rolled back in his skull and he collapsed on the bed, the token rolling out of his open palm. This went unnoticed by Odin whose own eyes were shut in concentration as he removed all memories of Elsa of Arendelle from his son's mind.

Frigga, acting purely on impulse, rushed forward and snatched the token from where it lay atop the sheets, managing to stow it away in the folds of her dress before Odin opened his eyes again.

"He will not remember her," the Allfather said quietly. Then, pausing by his wife's side on his way out he added, "It is for his own good, Frigga."

Then he left. Frigga rushed to Loki's side. He was in a deep sleep and would remain so for several hours. Having one's mind tampered with took its toll, even on a god. She brushed a lock of dark hair from his face and stroked his cheek lovingly. His already pale complexion seemed to have blanched several shades.

She took out the token and stared at it mournfully. She could not bear the thought of having to tell her son that he would never see Elsa again, but even worse was the knowledge that he would never even know she existed. He would have nothing to remember her by, not even a distant memory.

Suddenly she had a thought. Making sure Loki was comfortable, she left his chambers, heading towards the trading district with renewed purpose.

* * *

Odin stood over Elsa as she lay asleep, a peaceful look on her face. The room was completely free of ice which, though he admitted was quite remarkable, did not sway his decision. Protecting Loki was his ultimate priority, and the happiness of one mortal, gifted or otherwise, would not change that.

It was not without regret that he began the process of tampering with Elsa's memories. He could see, just as he had with Loki, that their connection ran far deeper than a mutual affinity for magic. However this simply served to fuel Odin's certainty that what he was doing was necessary; if Loki became too close to the girl he could also become closer to the truth of his parentage.

This process was more difficult. With Loki all he had had to do was make him believe that Frigga had never come to his room; that he had stayed in his chambers reading rather than travelling to Midgard. Just a tiny tweak and all memories of Elsa were suppressed so deep it would be impossible to ever dig them up again. However Odin wanted to make Elsa believe that he had come in Frigga's stead, and had told her everything his wife had deigned to omit, such as the threat of exile.

Replacing a true memory with a false one was far harder than just burying an existing one, and subsequently the illusion was far more likely to crumble over time if prompted. Odin convinced himself this was irrelevant because the only thing strong enough to prompt the original memory back to the surface was an encounter with Loki, something he would not allow to happen.

Elsa tossed and turned in her sleep, but did not wake. When Odin opened his eyes, satisfied with his work, she lay still, just as Loki had. Odin felt a surge of pity for the girl, her beautiful features pulled taut with distress. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Rest now, child," he mumbled. "Asgard will be watching over you."

As he was about to leave, Odin paused. He noticed Loki's flame hovering beside the bed, casting a pale green glow over the room. Sighing, but with unshakeable resolve, he reached out and quashed the flame in his fist.

With that the Allfather turned and left, failing to notice the chill that had permeated the air and the ice that was slowly creeping back into the room. Just like a sly beast reclaiming its lair after an intrusion by a creature more powerful than itself, the gaping hole in Elsa's heart left by the loss of Loki Odinson was filled once more with the fear that had governed her life for so long.


	4. Chapter 4

- Three Years Later -

Loki was breathing heavily, clutching the end of his golden staff as he dangled in empty space, the Bifrost tumbling away beneath him. Thor had a hold of the other end, and Odin of Thor. Loki's eyes were fixed on him. All the emotions which had been driving him over the past weeks were broiling under the surface: anger, jealousy, betrayal, even love. There was a visceral need inside him to prove both to Odin and himself that even though he was not Loki Odinson, but Loki Laufeyson, he was worthy of Odin's love and approval.

That need was there even now, when he knew he had failed yet again. "I could have done it, Father!" He yelled, voice cracking. "I could have done it! For you! For all of us."

Odin held his gaze. "No, Loki."

He spoke quietly, so it was a wonder he was heard over the strength of the winds. But his words were clear enough to Loki. In that moment, he felt his heart, along with the hopes he had built up, shatter like the rainbow bridge that was crumbling away as they spoke.

Thor saw this in his brother's eyes. He watched the last of the mischievous light dissipate and be replaced by a barren darkness. "Loki, no!" He bellowed, because he understood what was about to happen.

Loki did not hear him. He heard nothing; saw nothing but Odin as he relaxed his grip on the staff, his last tie to his family, and was pulled backwards towards the stars.

His hair whipped his face as he fell. Constellations swirled around him like he was inside a kaleidoscope. Intensely coloured cosmic clouds were sprinkled with stars, a harsh contrast to his thoughts, which were black and empty.

He fell, unsure of his destination. Not really knowing if he had one. Was he even alive? Part of him hoped he was not.

Shards from the Bifrost were swirling around him, their jagged edges whistling past his body. He did not notice them until one slid through a chink in his armour and into the flesh of his shoulder below his collar bone. A gasp escaped his lips as a searing heat flowed through his chest and left arm. His vision began to blur and fade as pain clamped him in its vice-like grip, the energy from the Bifrost trapped within the shard spreading throughout his entire body.

Loki was on fire; he was sure of it, the pain was so intense. But through the agonising haze, Loki felt something calming. There was a point on his arm untouched by the heat, and he focused on that point with all the strength he had until his mind capitulated and his eyes slid shut.

* * *

When he woke he was no longer falling, but lying on his back, staring up at a steel grey sky. He resisted the burning pain in his shoulder and pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around him. Desolate planes of ice spread all the way to the horizon, undulating slightly but remaining mostly flat until they met a line of craggy mountains which shot up into the clouds.

"Jotunheim," he whispered, appalled that he recognised the landscape so easily.

He had no idea how he had gotten here. The only solution he could come up with was that he had somehow found the strength to teleport after he lost consciousness, though he could not understand why his unconscious mind would decide to bring him to Jotunheim. It may have been his birth place, but it was not his home; he had no home now, having been cast from Asgard. Even so, he would never willingly return here. Loki had been so ashamed and angered at his connection to the ice realm that he had tried to destroy it and wipe its foul race from existence.

_Then why in all Nine Realms am I here?_ Loki wondered silently.

He tried to think back to the moments before he blacked out, but all he could remember was the pain coursing through his veins. He winced at the memory. Loki was still in pain, but it was no more than a ghost of what had been there before. He pulled himself to his feet.

It was evident from the way his knees trembled that he was too weak to teleport anywhere and so Loki decided to find shelter. The mountains were the only landmark as far as he could see and so he made for them.

The walk was not long, only a few miles, but it took him over an hour in his weakened state. To make matters worse, as he reached the foot of the nearest mountain, the temperature plummeted and snowflakes began to fall. Within minutes Loki was fighting his way through a full blown blizzard. His emerald cape, torn and dirtied, whipped around his ankles and he lifted his arm to shield his face from the bite of the wind. The cold had never had much hold over him for reasons he had not understood until recently, but there was force behind this storm; anger and pain, as though the elements were at war with their emotions.

Loki felt himself falter and fell to his knees, grunting with exertion. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sky cleared and the storm was gone.

_Forsaken lump of ice,_ he thought angrily, climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. _It's a wonder I'm the first who's tried to destroy it.  
_  
He had reached the mountains regardless. He pressed onwards and upwards, through narrow passes and along chasm edges. His original purpose had been to find shelter, but despite passing several caves, something kept pushing him on. It was like an inexplicable tug somewhere deep in his stomach; an instinct, perhaps.

He trudged through thick snow for hours, climbing ever higher. When he was just below the cloud line, he stopped. It was surely madness to continue any further, but curiosity got the better of him. He held out his hand and summoned a ball of flame which he then sent shooting off into the cloud. It very briefly cut a gap in the foggy veil before it closed back up again, but in those few seconds he saw something glint, and could not resist investigating.

As he emerged from the clouds, he came to a halt, his jaw dropping slightly. A huge structure towered upwards at least three hundred feet, its majestic towers and spires shining like prisms, their myriad soft colours seductive in the pale sunlight. It clung to the side of the mountain as though they were one, and appeared to be made entirely of ice. This was not the work of frost giants. Loki had seen their architecture. It was dark and aggressive looking, but what stood before him was a masterpiece worthy of Asgard.

Hesitantly, with steps weighed down by exhaustion and pain, Loki staggered across the surprisingly sturdy bridge spanning the chasm between him and the castle. Loki could think of many reasons to stay away from the castle and whoever lived there, but he could feel his strength draining, and the thought of possible death did not frighten him, but compelled him, for what reason did he have to go on living anyway?

He lifted his arm and thumped his closed fist against the towering sheet of glass that was the front door. It opened almost immediately, though no one had touched it. He stepped warily across the threshold and stopped, once more taken aback by the beauty of what he saw.

He was standing in a large circular room, bare save a fountain - which was more ornamental than functional as the water was frozen and hanging in icy tendrils - and the sweeping staircase which passed over it. Broad pillars towered upwards to support a vaulted ceiling and the crystalline chandelier which dangled precariously over Loki's head. He saw his breaths come out in puffs as he turned on the spot, mouth open.

Suddenly Loki sensed another presence in the room. He turned to locate the presence and found something he had not expected. A young woman stood at the top of the stairs looking down at him warily. A pair of wide blue eyes and thin pink lips were set into a dainty face. Her hair was swept back from her face in a long, snow-coloured braid that fell over her shoulder. Loki was awed, partly by her beauty, and partly because he could not believe that a woman like this could live in such a desolate place. His reaction irritated him, and he hardened immediately.

"There aren't many people who can sneak up on me," Loki said flatly.

"There aren't many people who climb to the top of the North Mountain," the woman retorted without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence as the two summed each other up. "Who are you?" she said finally.

"I am Loki of Asgard."

"Loki," she murmured thoughtfully, a look of confusion flitting across her face. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Why are you here? Has he changed his mind after all, and sent someone to kill me?"

It was Loki's turn to be confused. He did not know who this woman was, or who the 'he' she spoke of was, but what she was implying insulted his pride. "I have no idea what you speak of, but I am no one's attack dog. I am a king."

"And I am a queen," replied the woman calmly. "Or was. But regardless of status, you are under my roof, so I'll ask you again: why are you here, Loki of Asgard, if not to put an end to me and my curse?"

Loki was becoming frustrated and increasingly puzzled by this woman. He did not enjoy being puzzled. "I can assure you I've not come to kill you. I don't even know your name, let alone anything about a curse. I simply seek shelter for the night, if Your Grace would be so kind."

The woman watched him for a long moment, deciding whether or not to trust him. He seemed like the type to whom lying was second nature, and she did not believe for one second that he was king of anything. On the other hand, he was in a terrible state; his lip and cheek split, his green tunic stained with blood and his lower legs caked in snow that she imagined would be freezing for anyone other than her. Elsa was many things, but even after everything she had been through, heartless was certainly not one of them.

"My apologies. Isolation hasn't done my manners any favours. I'm Elsa of Arendelle. You're welcome to rest here for the night, since I don't believe you've come to kill me."

At this Loki grunted. She was a little slow on the uptake, this Elsa. She gestured for him to follow and they made their way through the castle, Loki trying desperately to focus on something other than the incredibly distracting sway of her hips. She stopped outside a set of doors and turned to face him.

"You can use this room," she said. "It should be comfortable enough, though I'm afraid I can't do anything about the temperature."

"That's all right," Loki replied, smiling bitterly. "The cold never bothered me anyway."

Elsa stared at him for a moment, slightly bewildered. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, nor did she particularly care to find out. There was something strangely familiar about him that she found unsettling. "I've decided to trust you, Loki. Please don't make me change my mind."

With that she left him, sweeping back down the corridor the way they had come. Loki watched her for a moment, amused, wondering what such a delicate thing could possibly do to hurt him, before pushing open the door to his room and collapsing onto the bed, exhausted. Within minutes he had fallen into a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was walking through the halls of the palace on Asgard, his footfalls echoing along the empty passage ways. There was a physical pain in his chest when he considered that he might never be able to return here. He felt homesick looking at the towering gold walls and exquisitely decorated halls.

His feet had subconsciously led him to his chambers. Hesitantly pushing open the door, he entered his old room and looked around wistfully. It was exactly as he remembered it. The bed was sloppily made, the covers hanging off the sides at awkward angles. His desk was just as messy, with papers, scrolls and open books scattered untidily across the broad oaken surface.

A fresh wave of pain washed over Loki as he remembered the days before his anger and jealousy had consumed him; the days when he had been content to lose himself between the pages of a book, convinced he could find all the answers he needed hidden in their inky embrace. He reached out to touch them, overwhelmed by an insatiable longing to run his fingers along their bindings, as if that alone could reverse all the harm he had done since he last perused their pages.

He turned as he heard a loud crash behind him. His door had been flung open, and in the archway stood Odin. Loki's blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat.

But then the Allfather smiled and crossed the room, sweeping Loki into a strong hug.

"My son," Odin laughed, voice booming in Loki's ear. "You have come home!"

Loki was astounded. "I – I am not your son," he stuttered, unable in his shock to say anything else.

Odin pulled away, and it was all Loki could do to keep from crying out, because the face he saw was no longer that of Odin Allfather, but rather the patterned blue face of Laufey, the frost giant who had fathered Loki, and who Loki had murdered.

"Yes," Laufey said, his voice like gravel. "You are my son, and none of your pathetic magic tricks will ever change that."

Loki tried to push him away, but Laufey's hands were clamped around his shoulders. "You're dead," Loki protested weakly, cold sweat starting to bead on his brow.

"No, boy. I am you, and you are me. You are my kin, and as long as you breathe, I cannot die."

Loki shuddered. Laufey laughed, harsh and guttural. "You cannot escape me, Loki_ Laufeyson_. You are a monster, just like me. My blood runs in your veins."

With those words, Laufey raise his arm into the air, an icy blade forming in his fist as he did so. Loki gasped as he brought it down, plunging the frosty dagger into his flesh and spraying blood over the books he had so cherished.

* * *

Loki's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, panting as he clawed at his shoulder where he had felt Laufey's blade pierce his flesh. It was just where the shard from the Bifrost had hit him, but there was no new wound. His Asgardian body had served him well, and the wound had already healed. He groaned, passing his hand over his face. His skin was cold and clammy, and his hair was damp with sweat, as were the sheets that lay tangled around his limbs.

He knew he would not be able to fall asleep again and so he swung his feet out of the bed and stood up, somewhat shakily. He had not bothered to undress properly before falling asleep, only removing the top layer of armour. Now he removed all but the base layer so that he was only wearing a simple black tunic and a pair of thin trousers. Both were torn but he had no other option.

He pushed open his door and made his way out into the hallway. It was still night outside, and the Jotunheim darkness was absolute. Loki was only able to see where he was walking because of the strange luminosity of the castle's walls. His boots clicked softly on the icy floors but the silence of Elsa's palace remained largely undisturbed. Loki was not sure where he was walking to, but his restless mind would not allow him to stay still, and so he wandered the halls of the castle, the horrors of his dream fresh in his broken mind.

* * *

Elsa stood on her balcony looking down upon the frozen wasteland below. Her face was void of expression but her mind was swimming with thoughts of the strange man who slept down the corridor.

She had seen his green fire come shooting through the clouds and so had been prepared. She had watched him stand on the far side of the bridge gawping up at her castle, and had had half a mind to summon her snowy doorkeeper to deal with him. He had made her immediately suspicious; he was not a Jotun, but no mortal could have scaled the North Mountain in the state he was in, so she had had to conclude that he was from Asgard, since no other realms were known to her.

This had not surprised her. Elsa hadn't expected Odin to spare her for long, and a small part of her had been happy. She hated it here. She had always been isolated, but at least in Arendelle she had been close to her sister, if not really with her. Here on Jotunheim all ties to what little of her family remained were severed and her powers raged more out of control than ever. Just earlier she had set off a blizzard simply because she had remembered when Anna had stood on this balcony with her, begging her to return to Arendelle. Of course, that had been on Midgard and now she was on Jotunheim. All things considered, it had probably been a mistake to make her castle here look the same as the one she had built at home. There were too many things here to trigger bad memories.

However, despite all of this, Elsa did not wish to die. There was a hopefulness inside her that refused to be quenched, and it told her that if she could stay here until she learned to control her curse, Odin would let her return to Arendelle and see her sister again. And so when she had seen Loki approaching she had been ready to defend herself. But something about him had stopped her. There was something in his stance and the way his eyes glinted with that suppressed mischievousness that struck a nerve deep inside her, but she could not for the life of her think why. Whenever she tried to place where she had seen him before the thought slipped out of her reach. It was infuriating, like trying to make sense of a half-remembered dream.

She tensed, the feeling of being watched making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She gripped the railing on the balcony a little harder.

"Who's doing the sneaking now?" she said without turning around.

Loki shifted uncomfortably and stepped forward onto the balcony. He had not intended to stop and talk to his host, but he could not help but watch her. Elsa had been standing with her head tilted slightly to the side, giving away the depth of her thinking. He found the curve of her neck and the way her hair fell - not a hair out of place and yet appearing somehow tousled at the same time - very distracting. He didn't like it one bit.

"Forgive me. You appeared engaged. I didn't wish to disturb you," Loki said, only letting the slightest hint of his irritation seep into his tone.

"It's all right," Elsa said. "I was only thinking."

There was a brief silence as the two just watched each other slightly warily, though each had very different reasons for doing so.

Elsa put her distrust to one side and sighed. "Can't sleep?" she asked.

Loki shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "Too much on my mind, I suppose."

Elsa nodded knowingly. "I know the feeling," she said a little sadly.

Loki eyed her sceptically, not believing she could comprehend the things he felt, but the look in her eyes made him reconsider his doubts. She was young, not much older than twenty by the looks of her, and yet lived alone in a mountaintop fortress in one of the most barren of the nine realms. And then there was what she had said when they first met, when she had immediately assumed that Loki had been sent to kill her. Considering this, Loki felt his curiosity be piqued.

"Really?" he asked, stepping forward so that he stood next to her at the balcony's edge.

She laughed and looked up at him. "You seem surprised."

"I'm rarely surprised, my lady. Although I am curious about you."

"Likewise," she replied. "You're strange, Loki of Asgard; I can tell that much already."

He smirked down at her. "You're not wrong."

"Tell me," she said, her blue eyes wide and encouraging.

"All right then," Loki said. "A trade: my story for yours."

"Agreed," Elsa responded. "You first. I want to know how, and why, you managed to climb to the top of my mountain."

Loki chuckled darkly. "It wasn't easy. I got caught in a blizzard on my way up. I've never seen a storm rage with such - ," he stopped when he saw Elsa's face. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry about that," she murmured apologetically. "I was a little upset."

Loki didn't understand her meaning at first, but then the pieces clicked together. The blizzard, the lonely ice castle, the snowy hair and ice blue eyes, and the mysterious 'curse'. He almost laughed. "That was you?" he said incredulously.

Elsa grimaced. "My curse," she explained. "I can control ice.''

Loki stared at her with mingled awe and fascination. Elsa stared back, searching for some trace of fear. Finding none, she was faced with a situation she was unfamiliar with. Loki presented her with the opportunity to confide in someone who had no preconceptions about her, and who placed no pressure on her to be anything she wasn't.

So they stood beneath the stars, and Elsa recounted her life to him. At first she was hesitant, telling only the most elemental things, but slowly they grew more comfortable in each other's' company. The gap between them lessened until their arms were almost touching. Loki stood rapt as Elsa told him stories of her childhood; the emergence of her gifts, the accident with Anna, the spiralling descent into helplessness that followed, and her isolation. He could relate to her loneliness in a way he had never expected to connect with another person, and so became almost distressed when she retold the events that transpired after her coronation. Her escape from Arendelle, the visit from her sister, the attempt on her life by the Duke of Weselton's guards, her imprisonment and subsequent escape onto the frozen fjord, and her sister's act of bravery as she threw herself in front of Hans's blade just as she turned to ice, a result of Elsa's powers. Elsa explained how even after she had saved Anna and thawed Arendelle, she had known there would be consequences.

Sure enough, as soon as Elsa was alone, Odin had appeared. Elsa had protested only weakly when he insisted that she be exiled. Loki's calm façade began to chip away at this part of Elsa's tale. His anger at Odin was exacerbated as he learnt of his involvement in Elsa's misery.

"I don't understand," he said through gritted teeth. "You unfroze your kingdom. You learnt to control your powers, just as he wanted you to."

"All the same, there was no way of knowing for sure that what I did wasn't just luck," Elsa replied sullenly.

Elsa's quiet acceptance of Odin's actions only fuelled Loki's anger. "What my – what Odin did was wrong! Where is his sense of honour?"

"You must try to understand, Loki. The lengths Odin went to in order to protect Arendelle and other kingdoms from the frost giants were immeasurable. He explained to me that the magic in the wards he placed on the kingdoms was so strong that it gave the land and everyone living there longevity of life."

Loki looked at her incredulously. He had never heard of such powerful sorcery, and certainly not used by his – by Thor's father. Odin had always frowned upon Loki's fascination with conjuring, seeing it as a coward's weapon and favouring Thor's strength and natural tendency towards hand to hand combat.

"He told me," Elsa continued, "that this was why he could not take the risk of allowing me to remain on Midgard. Because I could potentially endanger not only Arendelle, but the world beyond the wards, which he tells me has gone on developing and growing."

"Well, he wasn't lying to you about that. The Midgardians have certainly progressed beyond horse-drawn carriages and triple-masted sailing ships. But that doesn't condone the way Odin acted. He is the Allfather, and should know better than to banish one as gentle as you to a wasteland like this," he spat, gesturing to the frozen expanse below them.

Elsa looked at him with placid eyes, but Loki saw the storm raging behind them. She reached out and touched his arm, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Loki could feel her cool fingertips brush over his skin through his shirt, and was confused by the sparks of electricity that seems to flow through him at the contact.

"It's all right, Loki," she murmured, as though he was the one in need of comforting. Perhaps he was. "Really, I'm fine."

Loki frowned, baffled by her willingness to forgive when there was so much for her to be furious about. She was so much like him in that she had suffered isolation all her life, and eventually been exiled for trying to do what was right, and yet they were so different. She had supposedly accepted her fate; Loki, try as he might, could not do the same.

Elsa sighed. "I know we agreed to trade stories, but I am tired. Perhaps you could stay another day, so that I might hear your tales from Asgard."

Loki nodded, surprised at how readily his answer came to him. "I would like that very much."

Elsa smiled more widely than Loki had been expecting, and he felt himself smile in return, conscious that his suppressed happiness at being accepted by Elsa was reaching his eyes and giving him away. She made no comment, however. She just wished him a good night before turning back into her castle, leaving Loki alone, but less lonely than he had felt in years.


	6. Chapter 6

_NOTE: Hey guys! So... sorry for the delay but exams + chronic writer's block isn't exactly the formula for a happy fic writer! Also this chapter isn't as long as I would've liked but c'est la vie. A__nyways hope you guys enjoy _:D

* * *

Loki was back in his room, reclining against the icy headrest of the four poster bed. It was not yet dawn; Jotunheim nights were dark and lingering, and the sun had not yet appeared to soften the horizon.

Despite the almost absolute darkness, Loki could not sleep. His head swam with thoughts of Elsa. He found it remarkable that someone so delicate and graceful could wield a power so deadly. It was unsurprising, really, that Odin had feared the danger she posed to Midgardians, considering even Loki, a Jotun by birth, had been affected by her snowstorm. But it didn't excuse the abhorrent way Odin had treated her.

Loki's teeth ground together just thinking about it. His fists clenched so hard that his fingernails threatened to draw blood from his palms. His emotions still raged whenever he thought of the Allfather, the man who had taken him from his home and raised him as his own, telling him over and over that he was strong and worthy, when in truth he was nothing more than another stolen relic.

All his life Loki had been lied to and given false hopes about his chances of being crowned king, but even after he discovered the truth he had remained loyal. He had tried to protect the sanctity of Asgard, and he had been exiled for it; cast into an abyss for doing what was right. Just like Elsa. He had not thought he could be angrier at Odin until Elsa had imparted to him her own tale of woe.

But though he tried to remain angry, Loki's countenance immediately softened as thoughts of her entered his plagued mind. He was fascinated by her. She seemed so calm and steady on the surface – and so she should, for she had had a lifetime of solitude to perfect her apparent apathy – but Loki could see the battles she fought within. He couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but he felt that he knew Elsa, though he had never seen her prior to the previous day.

Loki was too stubborn, too proud, to call it an attraction. Attraction was, in his mind, a weakness. It made people dependent on something as fickle as another person, and drove them to do foolish things. Even so, Loki could not pull his thoughts away from Elsa. Her enigmatic stare had become the unmoving centrepiece of his tumultuous mind.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, gasping as a sudden burst of pain lanced through his shoulder, just where the shard from the Rainbow Bridge had bitten his flesh.

_Gods_, he cursed silently. _I thought that had healed._

He gingerly pulled his shirt over his head to inspect the wound, but there wasn't one. The skin had knitted itself back together as it should have, leaving nothing but a jagged pink line that had already faded considerably. Loki frowned. It had felt as though the shard was still in him.

Then he grunted. _It must have broken off inside me_, he thought irritably. He would have to deal with that, but not now; he was weary and would likely just cause himself unnecessary pain.

His eyes drifted to the gold cuff that circled his upper arm, its sunny opulence a harsh yet pleasant contrast to his pale skin. It had been a gift from Frigga, the woman who, even after the truth of his lineage became known to him, he had no problem calling 'mother'. The cuff had a small stone set into it, clear as glacial water, though it was streaked with blue and white. He didn't know what the stone was, or why his mother had given it to him, but he had cherished it then, and he cherished it still. He was never without it.

Loki was half-conscious of the temperature in the room dropping, his breath puffing out in larger plumes into the newly frigid air. He paid little heed to it, his Jotun roots allowing him to carry on unfazed by the change.

He looked up from his scrutiny of his shoulder, however, at the sound of the wind howling outside his shuttered window. Strong gusts whistled through the many chasms and valleys of the mountains at such speeds that it sounded like someone screaming far off in the distance. The shutters began to rattle with startling ferocity before the pin holding them closed snapped with a twang and dropped to the floor. Wind and snow burst through the yawning gap, throwing the shutters back with such force that they ricocheted off the walls and shattered as well.

Loki stood up and moved forward, angling his body to battle against the angry gale and reach the window. He touched his hand to the window frame and a thick layer of ice formed across the fissure, barring the entrance of the storm. He turned his hand before his face, looking somewhat appreciative. He may not like the truth of his lineage, but the ice that ran in his veins was certainly an advantage. Not to mention that it came to him far more naturally than any of his other magic and so wasn't nearly as taxing to his energy reserves.

Loki paused, panting slightly, and ran his hand through his tangled hair. Then suddenly he froze, tilting his head to the side as he tried to discern a sound. In the relative silence, he realised that what he had thought was just the wind actually was someone screaming. His heart seemed to plummet into his stomach.

Without stopping to think or consider why his reaction had been so violent, Loki bolted out the door and down the corridor, following the sounds of Elsa's screams. Each wail cut through the darkness like a dagger on canvas, and Loki winced every time one reached his ears.

He finally found the doors to Elsa's chambers, but the doors were frozen shut, at least doubled in thickness and hermetically sealed by jagged chunks of ice that ran around the edges. This ice lacked the beauty of the rest of the castle. This ice was the product of fear.

Loki slammed his fists against the doors in frustration as another scream seeped through the cold, dark night. The only intelligible thought in his mind was that he somehow had to reach Elsa. He summoned his green fire and watched impatiently as it all too slowly ate its way through the ice.

Loki dashed through as soon as there was a big enough gap, and stopped short at the sight he was met with. Elsa lay on her bed, sheets twisted around her rigid body as she writhed beneath them. Her eyes were shut and her face was contorted, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a pained grimace. He rushed forwards, moving lithely around the protrusions of ice that jutted out of the ground. Reaching the bed, he reached out and shook her arm. Receiving no response, he called out to her.

"Elsa," he said, raising his voice to be heard above the maelstrom outside. "Elsa, wake up! Look at me! Elsa!"

Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she stared ahead, wide eyed with terror. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching in her throat.

"Elsa?" Loki said carefully.

She looked at Loki but only managed to hold his gaze for a moment before her face crumpled and tears welled up in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and wept, her breaths now coming in gasps. Loki hesitated, unsure of what to do in this situation. He could not recall ever having to comfort someone as they cried; he had rarely even seen another person cry. However he knew the feeling himself, knew what it was like to have one's own body racked by grief and anger and fear. He had discovered that feeling the day he discovered his true name. _Laufeyson_.

Resolving himself to ease Elsa's burden in any way he could, he moved to sit beside her. He paused, half-expecting her to rebuke his advance. However she surprised him yet again by turning to him and burying her face against his chest.

Loki started, blinking rapidly, with his arms suspended above her delicate frame, unsure of what to do with them. He lowered them slowly, one wrapping around her quivering shoulders, the other cradling her head to him.

"Sshhh," he whispered. "It was just a dream. Everything's alright."

They remained like this, Elsa sobbing quietly, Loki attempting to comfort her as her fingers clenched and unclenched in the fabric of his shirt. Slowly but surely the snow that fell from the ceiling dissipated and the winds buffeting the frosty structure subsided. Eventually, all was quiet again, so that the only sound to reach their ears was that of their own breathing; Loki's deep and even, Elsa's slowing to match his, her heartbeat falling into step with his.

After a while, Elsa's fingers lay unmoving and flat against Loki's chest and he knew she had fallen asleep. He remained where he was.

_After all_, Loki told himself. _It would be inconsiderate of me to risk waking her when she's had such an exhausting night._

But despite this seemingly austere motive, Loki was fighting a battle with himself, deep within the realms of his subconscious. He could feel something stirring in his chest as he sat absently stroking Elsa's pale hair. It was like a gentle tug somewhere inside him. He knew that it was tugging him towards Elsa, but he did not understand why; he had only met her a day ago.

_So then why do I feel as if I _know _her? _Loki thought exasperatedly, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The last few weeks had utterly drained Loki, mentally, physically, but especially emotionally. The last thing he needed was a_ woman_, of all infernal things, weaselling her way into his head. Loki had never been swayed by such sentiments before in his life, but now, when he should have been plotting his revenge upon Asgard, he could not gather his thoughts without that beautifully pale face invading his mind.

It was infuriating, and only served to strengthen his resolve that romantic attachments were a fool's nourishment. And Loki was no fool. That being said, nor was he an ungrateful being. Elsa had been a gracious host, and had trusted him in a way few people ever had – _Or likely ever will again_, he thought bitterly – and so he resisted the urge to push her away.

However, looking down at the soft curves of her body and the way wisps of her snowy hair fell over her peaceful face, Loki found it far more difficult than he would have liked to convince himself that pushing Elsa away was what he wanted to do.


End file.
